Invisible Collar
by liliaeth
Summary: Dark AU postCivil War, Tony Stark Peter Parker slash
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Invisible Collar

Author: Lore

Summary: Dark AU post-Civil War

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Tony Stark/Peter Parker

Disclaimer All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

1.

It had never been meant to be like this. To let the government create its own little super powered puppet soldiers. Oh it started simple enough; inject some nanobots in a select group of super-villains to make them fight for the government's side. Simple idea right? Get them to fight the good fight instead of just keeping them locked up in high tech cages that did nothing but cost the taxpayers millions of dollars.

All with complete control for the government people in charge. Simple, efficient, perfect weapons of mass destruction in human sized packages. The only problem was that even with the nanobots, the super villains in question were -- surprise surprise -- still bad guys. Oh, you could wrap them in all the good PR you want, put their pictures on hamburger ads and make toys out of their images, but at the end of the day they'd still go for the kill and ignore the safety of innocent people around them.

They weren't retired of course – the government wasn't that wasteful – so they were pulled quietly out of sight. Black ops, undercover actions, anything that'd let them do what they did best while the public went ooh and aah over the next new craze, forgetting all about the Thunderbolts. The public, as an institution, had a very short memory and an endless appetite for the new.

But the government still needed its new heroes and no matter how successful the Initiative sounded on paper, in reality, most of them were a bunch of newbies and nobodies with little or no actual experience in true-to-life combat situations. Most of them were eager enough, but time and time again, when sent after some of the anti-regs, or the big time menaces, they came up short.

Something needed to be done.

Luke Cage was the first to be captured, then Jessica Jones and Iron Fist in their attempt to free him. Wolverine and Spider-Woman went underground after Doctor Strange disappeared. Neither side knew if he did it on purpose or if one of his enemies had managed to get to him while he was distracted.

Then Peter… He could have gotten away, if he hadn't been fighting his best to give Ronin and Echo a chance to get away with Mary Jane. He gave up his freedom for his friends.  
Tony wasn't even sure if he should admire that, he probably did.

Peter was the last to be injected with the nanobots. He'd thought they were the neutralizer tech, the one used to depower superhumans. Three weeks earlier it would have been. But now the government needed new weapons, weapons it could actually use in public. Tony had flinched when he'd seen Luke after his first injection with the nanotech.

Cage was a proud man, proud enough to hate what was done to him and resent every single person involved in making him a tool to be used at the government's will. Tony had tried to tell him this was a second chance for him, that if he just accepted his orders, accepted the Initiative and what it meant, then the nanotech could be removed and he could be an Avenger again. Cage hadn't even bothered answering him.

At Gyrich's suggestion they'd sent Rand to San Francisco to add to the team there, while Cage was sent to Chicago. Miss Jones was released, she'd been retired and out for years, her only real crime was her support of her husband. She was injected with nanobots, just in case, but otherwise left untouched. Or so they told him. She went straight back to Strange's house and left with her and Cage's daughter half an hour later. The tracers said she was somewhere in Newark. Tony hoped she wasn't trying anything to free her husband.

Tony had tried to get Peter for his own team, but Gyrich refused. He said that Spider-Man was too big an asset to keep him for the Avengers. Stark didn't even try to ask what that was supposed to mean. He found out four weeks later when a report came out online of Spider-Man sightings in Iraq.

Tony nearly flew right over there at the sight of the figure tearing off one of the insurgent's heads. Peter a murderer… it had to be destroying him. To Gyrich and his people, none of that mattered, none of Peter's scruples or morals. All they cared about was that he was a perfect soldier for them to use.

He would have left to get him out, if it hadn't been for the Hulk showing up. By the time the war was done, dozens of heroes were dead and they'd stood there over the corpse of Bruce Banner, wondering if any of it was worth it anymore. 

That was the final blow really, to everything. Tony had to fight to stay in control, to not let people like Gyrich take over and turn every single superhero in the States into a nano-tech operated weapon. And by that time Peter had disappeared again anyway. Tony put everyone in SHIELD on the look out for him, but with everything that was happening; he couldn't make him a priority, no matter how much he wanted to.

It killed him; it killed him that Steve was dead and could no longer hear him say that he'd been right all along, that he had picked the wrong side. Just… if he hadn't done what he did, things might be even worse, wouldn't they? He hadn't had any other choice, had he?

It was two years later that Gyrich died, just a silly thing, one of their new Thunderbolts went rogue and killed him in his escape. Why had anyone ever even thought they could control someone like the Purple Man? The guy practically lived for manipulating others. In the end they lost the entire team as they killed one another on the Purple Man's orders.

Tony didn't say it out loud, but to tell you the truth, it was the best thing to happen in years. He also didn't bother to show anyone the remote used to take out the Purple Man's implants for at least ten minutes. Nor did anyone ever see the distinctly colored corpse before it was destroyed with a repulsor burst.

It was only two weeks later that he received his new transfer. Two weeks before he could open the bay doors and see the small looking man standing in the middle of the hall, surrounded by ten guards. He seemed thin, vulnerable, hair cut short enough that you could still see certain incisions on the right side of the head.

"Hello Peter."  
But Peter wasn't home no more.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Tony stared at one of his monitors. That particular image was the take from Peter's cell monitoring system. He hated it, but it was just one of the avalanche of regs he'd had to accede to in order to secure Peter's transfer back to New York.

Tony had made sure that Peter's room at the new and rebuilt Stark Tower looked just like his old one had before Peter had left the fold and gone against the law. But Peter barely even seemed to notice. Instead he was crouching on the ceiling in the back of the room; it was one of the few places in the room that didn't have a camera aimed directly at it. Tony only knew Peter was there because both the guards and the sensors had told him he was.

Tony knew he'd have to add another camera to counter the blind spot. But for now he couldn't bring himself to do it. Let Peter have at least a few inches of privacy. What harm could it do?

He made a short phone call downstairs. Half an hour later the door of Peter's room opened and Jarvis walked inside. Still no sight of Peter.

Jarvis took the plate and set it out on the table, adding a soda and some dessert.

"Peter," he said "You know your aunt would want you to eat."

Peter jumped down, his white slacks and linen shirt barely moving from the exertion. He just examined Jarvis as silently and as eerily as a spider watched what had blundered into its web.

"Peter, please."

Peter just stood there, he didn't move an inch.

"Sit down please."

Peter obeyed, as if an order had been all he needed.

"I'm sorry about Mary Jane."

Peter didn't respond, he just sat there like a life-sized doll, his eyes looked straight up at the camera, dead. Ignoring Jarvis who finally left him with the food.

Tony knew he'd have to call Reed, maybe there was something wrong with the nanobots in Peter's bloodstream. He'd rather believe that, than imagine what might have happened to Peter to change him like this. Tony took a last glance at the print out of Peter's physical state, checking the image with that from the sensors in Peter's clothes.

Peter's heartbeat was low, for him, he was underfed and nearly catatonic, aside of instant obedience to commands. Tony quickly decided to have Peter's medical check up scheduled for that same day. He wondered about the incisions on Peter's head. His files said they served to put in a tracker after Peter's second escape attempt. They also mentioned certain tests he'd been put through after he collapsed a year back; a consequence apparently of him refusing to follow certain kinds of orders. The file didn't specify what kind of orders those had been.

He wished he could just have the nanobots removed, but as soon as he did, not only would Peter be taken away from his custody, but the army would send him straight back into combat. He'd seen enough already that that should never be an option. But on top of that, it would mean for him to lose his current position and any chance he had to protect America's superheroes. If he was gone, people like Gyrich would be the only ones left in charge.

Tony went down the hall to Peter's room and opened the door. Peter was on the ceiling again. Tony stood still in the door, he looked at Peter, Peter turned away his eyes.

"Come on Peter, you need some fresh air."

Peter jumped down and followed him, but there was no resistance to the order. He had expected Peter to refuse to have anything to do with him, but then he remembered Peter's programming. "Don't worry Peter, I turned off most of the control functions the army guys put in. You don't have to do something, if you don't want to."

Peter didn't say a word, but there was a momentary look in his eyes that made clear just how wrong he thought Tony was. It was there, like a glimpse, the first sign of life and it was disgust with him. And Tony hated it, if Peter hadn't turned against them, he'd be free now. Didn't he get that? All he had to do was follow the law and he'd be free.

It was his sheer refusal to stand by the law that caused this. Yet he acted as if Tony was the bad guy. The worst part of it was that Tony couldn't entirely disagree, just seeing Peter like this made all the rest of it look like fake gold, worthless and without meaning.

But it wasn't his fault damn it, he'd done it to save them all, it wasn't his fault that Steve and others like him had refused to step in line.

It wasn't his fault that Steve was dead, yet that didn't keep everybody and their mother from blaming him for just that.

Then he repeated Jarvis earlier words: "I'm sorry about Mary Jane."

Peter's response was instant he turned and kicked at Tony in a move so fast you'd need a camera and freeze frame it to see him go from one place to the other. He was on the floor in pain before he came even close to hurting Tony.

"You killed her!" It was the first thing Peter had said since his arrival here.

Tony knelt down next to him, wanting to help him back up, but Peter refused his hand. Tony knew he should be giving Peter an added punishment now for daring to strike at his commanding officer. But he couldn't get himself to do it; he just hoped no one would notice him giving Peter a free pass.

"It was an accident Peter, the police officer who shot her didn't know she didn't have any superpowers. For Gods sake, she was involved in a terrorist attack. What did you expect the police to do?"

Peter got up and turned back to his room. Tony wanted to stop him, if he told him to do so, Peter would, he had no choice, but now Tony just had no idea what to say.

"She was saving children and they killed her. If you can't see that Stark, then you might as well put your controls back in because I may be damned, and I may be your puppet, but I'll go to hell before I'll do it willingly."

Peter said those words quietly, but they rang through Tony's heart like a two-by-four. It was the last sign of life he got out of Peter for the next few months.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

They didn't really bother to announce Peter's return to New York, not that that stopped the public from finding out about it within the day. How could it not have, when some kid caught a shot of him stopping some bank robbers? After that hit YouTube, they had no choice but to make an official statement.

The press jumped on it almost instantly.

'Spider-Man returns!'

'He's back!' and not to forget the Bugle's version of 'Webbed menace back on the streets!'

Some were ecstatic, Spider-Man had always been good for selling papers, no matter what he was doing, some wondered why he was back and a few were asking questions about where he'd been. The Bugle declared 'Public Outcry'. But when didn't they?

Tony ignored them all. He just kept up the occasional surveillance while Peter was sent out for patrol, checking up on Spider-Man's actions through the cameras in Peter's lenses. If Peter seemed harsher, more akin to violence, he blamed it on Peter's experiences, believing that he just had to let him settle in. It couldn't stay this bad could it?

He was still waiting for the results of Peter's medical. Reed seemed to be bothered by something, but he wasn't telling Tony what it was. If Tony didn't know better, he'd almost say that Reed was refusing to talk to him. But he did know better, Reed was just busy.

Either way, Peter was no longer joking his way through his fights, he was cold, terrifying. A weapon used against crime, standing still while the police booked the broken and battered criminals he brought in. Only talking when he answered direct questions from the authorities, and even then it was only in the most minor of sentences.

Yet despite all that, despite Tony's worries, the public seemed to love it. And soon Peter's picture was stamped on merchandising going from fast food to children's toys. His attitude was just seen as a long deserved maturing. If Peter noticed any of it on his times out, he didn't show it.

He just did what he was told, go out, fight crime and then came back in to sit in the corner of his room and eat food when ordered to do so. He barely used the bed, preferring to web himself up and sleep on the wall. The guards thought it funny. It wasn't.

The other Avengers avoided the topic; they fought alongside him, but seemed spooked to even come near him. Jan had tried to talk to him once, given some offhanded joke about wasps and spiders, but Peter had just stood there, head aimed straight ahead. In the eyes of the press that was just one more sign of Spider-Man being a loner.

There were some protests at Stark tower, but they were minor. Just some nut jobs that wanted Spider-Man in jail, they weren't even smart enough to realize how much of a prisoner Peter still was.

A book came out about Peter, half of it was incorrect. When the rights were asked for a Spider-Man animated series, he didn't even get a chance to stop it, before the government approved it. They wanted their property licensed and publicised. Peter's opinion on it wasn't asked. What came out had little or no resemblance to reality, showing a careless wisecracking kid who was just swinging around and getting in trouble like a fool until the army took him in hand. They treated Spider-Man as if he was a kid who just needed a wise mentor to show him the way, ignoring the part where he'd spent the past decade and a half saving lives and becoming one of the foremost heroes of the country.

Yet despite all that, Tony did nothing to stop it, how could he? If it kept Peter in the public eye, then the army would be less likely to try and get him back in their clutches, and maybe this way he might have the time to let Peter recover, find some way to get through to him. Some way to get anyone to listen to him; anyone he actually cared about to listen to him at least.

One day he checked up on Peter in the middle of the night, Peter was still out of sight, Tony still hadn't fixed the blind spot in the room. But there was the sound of a struggle. Tony quickly checked the sensors, there was nothing there, except for Peter whose heart was thumping madly, breathing in short harsh measures and seemed to be even warmer than his usual temperature.

He ran to the room, getting his extremis suit ready to engage in case it turned out to be needed. Instead he found Peter trashing in his web, terrified by something only he could see. Tony touched out for his head, but Peter kept pulling away from him, hurting himself.

Tony wanted to wake him up, but didn't know how to do so without making things even worse.

"Please don't. Stop!" Peter suddenly shouted, but the attackers in his mind didn't seem to stop. Not then and the torment still lasted with Peter's head arching back uncaring whether it hit the wall or not.

"Peter?" And all of a sudden it stopped, Tony thought he'd managed it, that he'd gotten Peter to wake up, but he wasn't. The horror was still in his face, pain, fear, his body had just gone still. When Tony touched him, he didn't flinch back, yet his face showed his fear.

When Peter woke up, he turned his eyes away from Tony and Tony let go of him. Peter pulled loose from his webbing and backed off to the edge of the room. Tony followed him, he just wanted to tell him everything was alright. He hadn't even noticed they'd gotten near the bed until Peter froze against the wall and seemed about ready to attack.

"Please don't

"Peter?"

Peter didn't answer; it wasn't until now that Tony realized that part of the young hero's mind was still caught in the nightmare. His heart was still throbbing madly; sweat pouring from his forehead as if he'd just gone a round with the Sinister Six.

Tony did the only thing he could do; he used extremis to take control of the nanobots in Peter's bloodstream and use them to calm him down. He held Peter in his arms all that time, trying to be there with him, then, in that moment and this one. By the end of it, Peter went limp in Tony's arms and stopped resisting.

"Please don't."


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Tony Stark sat in the darkness of his office, desperately staring at the files and hoping to find something, anything, to tell him that he was wrong. That he had misinterpreted Peter Parker's reaction. That when Peter had finally, fully awoken, the fear in his eyes at finding himself on the bed, carefully tucked in, wasn't about what he thought it was.

"Get me General Markham, online. Now."

The SHIELD agent responsible for coms instantly followed his orders.

"What do you want, Stark?"

The general on the other hand, kept him hanging for another half hour. Refusing to bow down to some upstart playboy who didn't have a clue about proper protocol; Tony guessed he should consider himself lucky that the general came online as quickly as he did. No matter how much the military might dislike seeing him here, he was still the director of SHIELD.

"What the hell did your people do to Parker?!" Tony was careful not to call Peter by his first name. Using his code name might have been even better, but…

"I don't think…" Tony could see the man gritting his teeth. The picture on the view screen showed that the general hadn't even looked up from his paperwork. As if some requisition form was more important than talking to him. He could see the look in Markham's eyes; resentment that Tony still had as much power as he did; rage that Tony had managed to take his favorite toy away from him. Good.

"I arrested one of my best friends, damn it." I took him in, I shot him down, messed with his spidersense and then put him in cuffs while he was still out. But he got out of it unhurt, didn't he? He wasn't crippled or murdered like the Thunderbolts would have done.

"And in two years time you've managed to turn a fun loving responsible intelligent man into someone who barely acts beyond responding to commands." Because i I /i handed him to you on a platter "What the hell did you do to him?" What have i _I /i _ done?

Oh god, he shouldn't have used the friends line.

"What have i _I /i _ done? Let me tell you what I've done, son. I've taken one of these costumed fuckups and turned him into a decent damned weapon, that's what I've done! You should thank me. This entire fucking country should be thanking me."

Thank him? Thank him?! Tony couldn't stop his fist from hitting the desk. He raised his hands as if to ask the heavens for help to get this imbecile to understand just how horrible what they'd done really was.  
"Thank you? For what?" Tony knew that if the General stood in front of him now, he would have shot the man with one of his repulsor bursts, or maybe a magnetic pulse; see once and for all if the bastard's heart was made of steel.

"God damn it, Stark." Followed by a controlled silence as the general finally put his papers down and stood up, turning his back to him. Tony needed to see his face. "We took care of him, i _we /i _ gave him purpose, discipline. i _We /i _ made it so he would no longer have to worry about anything but doing what he was told." Markham's voice grew louder with every word, and as he finally turned around again - leaning on the table - practically showing his teeth, Tony could see his eyes bulging and the muscles tensing up under the man's clean ironed white shirt. "Considering what a mess he's been since he first got his powers, i _he /i _ should be thanking us."

"What?!" And for a second Stark stared at the man in utter disbelief, too shocked as he remembered the shell that Peter had become. How could anyone… anyone even consider…? Peter was a hero. Didn't Markham get that? There were no words… no, there were thousands of words, but he had to find the right ones and God, was this the kind of thing Peter had been forced to deal with?

Markham took a few deep breaths and made a visible effort to calm down. It took him a few minutes. Minutes in which Tony should have talked; should have attacked him; should have… but he was still too stunned.

"He was fifteen when his powers showed up, Stark." God, how did the man go from megalomaniacal bastard to kindly grandfather-figure in less then a minute? "Where were you and your Avengers then, when some teenage kid suddenly had to deal with all that power coursing through his body, messing him up?"  
Tony had to grasp for breath, having trouble believing that Markham actually had the gall to put this on him.  
"And it's not even like he was some mutie whose body was designed for those powers. He was just a kid, with nobody even remotely willing to look out for him."

Somehow Markham managed to sound like the reasonable one, as if Tony was the insane one here.

"I don't think…"

But the general cut him off before he could continue.  
"We might have actually made something real out of him if we'd gotten him then, taught him to be responsible, to respect the law. But it's too late for that now. He's gotten too good at pretending to be normal, while he's little more than a basket-case inside."

"He wasn't…"

"He was, Stark. You haven't seen inside his head. I have. We just took away the pretence, the comic book morality that he clung on to and made him a weapon; sharp as a knife and actually useful to this great country of ours."

"You're wrong," Tony finally got in.

"No, I'm not. You call yourself his friend Stark, then be one and keep him under control, it's the only way he'll ever be safe, both for himself and the people around him."

"He was safe."

"No, he was clinging on to a thread, Director." He stated the word with so much disgust that it was almost palpable. "Pretending he was some comic book hero. But real life isn't a comic book and real life people ended up hurt because of it. We just made sure that the only ones getting hurt were the ones that deserved to be hurt."

"You made him a killer!"

"We made him a weapon!" For a moment the anger was back, but it was gone just as quickly. "And a damn good one at that." Was that pride? The general was silent again, only the sound of his harsh breathing came over the line as he looked straight back at Tony, not even a hint of shame in his eyes.  
"You think I don't care about him, Stark? You think I want to see him dead, or worse? That boy is a miracle; speed, strength, stealth, agility, he's got the works. He has it in him to be a better super-soldier than Rogers ever was. If we somehow manage to extract the reason for his powers from his DNA, one day we might find a way to replicate them, and finally create a true army of super-soldiers that this country could be proud off. Not like that rag tag band of idiots your buddies are trying to get together." Perfect soldiers, stepping in line and not a soul amongst them able to voice his protest; Tony wondered how many of them would be screaming inside like Peter had. What would some do to get into the program? Hell, he didn't have to imagine... the waiting list for the Order was proof enough of that.

"We took care of him. We fed him. We cleaned up his act and brought him to peak condition. It's what we do with weapons, especially expensive ones. I just hope you won't ruin him before we get him back. Because if you set back his progress, it'll only take longer for us to get him back into shape."

And then he hung up, just like that, as if he'd said his say and there was nothing that Tony could say or do to make it worth it to him to waste any more time on this.

Tony opened the camera to the training room, watching Peter in motion while his 'handlers' kept an eye on him. Trained puppy dog, and in the stress, the pain and the urge not to drink he started laughing, sick, twisted, he might as well go insane.

These days, it was the only way to go.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

It seemed such a simple device, about ten inches wide on each side. A slightly larger version of the ones the psy-agents got implanted in their heads. But at least this version wasn't permanent, and not half as likely to burn out when something went wrong.

Tony lay down on the bench, his head comfortably on a pillow, the psi-disc placed on his forehead and over his eyes, while his hands were enmeshed in padding to keep them from falling down while he was paying attention elsewhere. He'd just finished communications with the commanders of the SHIELD helicariers spread out over the country. The president was going to call him in two hours, he'd made sure to keep his time table free until then.

Peter was out of the building, on route to a fight with the new Masters of Evil, this time a version that had no connection to Zemo. It wasn't anything big and Jan had said she'd keep an eye on Pete while Tony dealt with issues over in New York. Justice had kept staring at the handlers, especially when he saw the computers they were working on. He'd refused to talk to Tony since. Tony had asked Jan, after a long thought, she told him about an organization the New Warriors had fought a few years back. A group that took superhumans and then turned them into weapons, breaking away their free will and making them little more than remote controlled drones to be put in duty wherever the bastards wanted to use them. A member of the team, Namorita, going by Kymaera at the time, had fallen victim to the organization.

They'd been called the soldiers of misfortune.

Tony had wanted to tell her that this was different, that they weren't villains, that this was part of a reform program and that the controls wouldn't be permanent. But how could he expect the others to believe the words when he couldn't quite believe them himself anymore.

Meanwhile Peter had sat still, no need to cuff his hands; it wasn't like he could even move before his handlers gave him permission. Dressed in red and gold, the spider symbol on his chest as much a restraint as it was a weapon, Tony had made sure that the suit was the best he could get it to be, he wondered if Peter appreciated that. Firestar had sat down next to Peter, and had tried to whisper something to him before they lifted off. Tony hadn't been able to see Peter's face. All he saw was Angelica's reaction, the pity in her eyes. She'd looked at Vance, the young mutant stood next to her and had taken her hand. Tony wondered if they were getting close again. He hoped so; at the very least it'd do for good publicity.

He wondered if there even had been a reaction from Peter. What would be worst to her?

Reed still didn't answer his call. Tony held the horn in his hands and sat down. Games and heroes, and all of them treated like meaningless entertainment. The army didn't get it; they didn't see the lives saved. Super villains and heroes, cops and robbers, it all looked like a game to them. All they saw was the damage caused to the civilians; they didn't see the lives freely given, the sacrifices made in name of the greater good. And what happened to Peter was going to be wiped under the carpet as if it were an unfortunate glitch.

Tony didn't even know what had happened to his friend, he didn't, and did he want to?

He knew he could, it would be so easy, too easy by far. If he did he'd break his friend's privacy, breaking his trust. He almost laughed, what trust, what privacy. He needed to know, for Peter's sake, how could he help his friend if he didn't know what it was that was bothering the man in the first place?

He finally lay fully down, the final position; he was going to be here for a while so he might as well make sure he was comfortable for it. His neck resting on a support; he allowed the tech in his suit meshing with the chair and slowly letting his body fall asleep while his mind went to work.

It was then that he opened the link to the nanites in Peter's bloodstream. It was a simple connection, sent through the handlers' computer and into Peter's brain.

Dialing up. One, two, connection. Downloading data, so much of it…

The first bits were unclear, old memories that played through Peter's head since the nanites went in, not clearly recorded since to that nanites they were no more than meaningless echoes. And then he saw her, Mary Jane in the sunlight, she was smiling as she was playing with a kitten. Mary Jane at nighttime, in their bed, she told him to shut up and kiss her. Peter didn't hesitate and did and Tony did it with him. Shame led him away, to a boy in a child's bed asking May where his parents were. Saying he'd be good, please God, I'll be good, just let mommy and daddy come back…Tony had to fight to remember these weren't his own memories, this wasn't him, it was Peter…Peter's hand as he looked at them as if they were a stranger's, staring at something on them. Ben Parker, Ben Parker dying, May's life ending and Peter leaving the hospital, broken, shattered. It was one of the first times Tony got to see himself as Peter saw him and he realized then, he hadn't won. Peter had let him win, Peter hadn't even realized it, but he'd given up and when Tony shot him down, there was no fight left. Peter could have run, but he hadn't had the strength for one last fight.

Let it all end, end for now and ever. All blurry memories, remembered over and over again, Mary Jane running, aunt May dying, Ben dead, the burglar, Ben dead, "that's your job", Ben dead, May dead, Mary Jane terrified and Peter.. Peter was… Peter didn't know what he was, to broken to believe in himself or anything.

I'm so sorry, aunt May.

All it'll take is three seconds, one, two, three.

Staring at his hands, at the webbing and hating it.

One, two, three.

"I'm not Peter," Tony thought, shivering, trembling until he knew nothing but Peter's shame, even as he let go of his burden.

A large body, lying on the ground, webbing in its mouth and nose, and sirens screaming through the night as a man jumped up and left, one last time. He didn't expect to get away with it, he didn't.

And Tony saw himself, flying up to Peter, and Peter fell before he was even hit.

One, two, three…

It almost, almost made him think Markham was right. Maybe this was better for Peter, no more pain, no more suffering, and no more responsibility. Maybe Peter had shouldered too much of it already, because no man could be that strong.

One two three, to stop a man breathing, one two three, to destroy everything he once held sacred, one two three, that he'd never ever be able to forgive himself for.

Octavius sat there still, his arms restrained to the walls. Tony watched him, as Peter had, and then he saw his hands, Peter's hands, the blood was still on his gloves. He wanted to take them off, but he didn't, because even if he did, there'd be no way to get the blood of his skin, of his soul.

"It's funny isn't it Parker, after all you've done for them, after all you've sacrificed, to them, you're as much a criminal as I am."

Tony/Peter didn't even look at him; he kept staring at his hands.

One two three

"What did they make you do?"

One two three, while the Kingpin's eyes went black with blood.

"A village, there were rebels, people fighting the army and… they told me to stop them. One of the mortars hit a school. I wanted to save the children, I wanted to… But when I didn't listen…"

"They took over your body and made you kill the rebels instead?" Octavius seemed almost sad as he said it.

"They didn't stand a chance." Peter had stared at his hands again. "Some of the soldiers went for the children, but they were too late." Peter whispered the words. "I keep hearing their screams. I keep hearing them scream." Peter's voice broke, remembering the smell, seeing the burns; looking in their eyes, seeing a little boy wearing a Spider-Man shirt and staring at him as if asking, "Where were you?" Across of him, Octavius closed his eyes, bending his head as if to pray.

Tony dropped the connection and grabbed a bottle, he needed…

He jumped up and vomited.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Tony swallowed a glass of water, placing it down on a coaster before Jarvis had a chance to complain. The older butler handed him his jacket before leaving the room. The man was still here, but the light had gone out of his eyes the night May Parker died. Tony missed the smiles and jokes that the butler had had, nowadays he barely even complained any more about boot prints in the hall. It almost made Tony ignore the use of coasters, just to get the old Jarvis back. He missed his friend.

It was one reason that he'd tried to stay out of the way so Jarvis and Peter could connect. So far Jarvis was the only one of them that got a smile from Peter. One time Tony had seen the old butler come out of Peter's room with tears in his eyes. The butler had composed himself as soon as he'd spotted his employer. Tony had pretended not to see anything.

He was pulled back to reality with a beep of the com.

"Director Stark? We had a small problem with Spider-Man during the trip, it seems like he started to struggle during the flight." Tony froze. "We managed to take over his autonomous functions so that the other Avengers didn't notice, but we thought you should know."

Struggle? "When?"

When he said the time Tony realized it had been exactly when he'd entered Peter's mind.

"I'm afraid that's my fault then, I was using the psylink at that time."

"Oh forgive me sir, I didn't realize. Does that mean you do not want us to have him disciplined?"

Tony sputtered a no, and then repeated his no more clearly. He started pacing the room. So far Peter hadn't needed to be disciplined, not that Tony had seen at least. The fight had left the young hero long before now.

"I have to tell you sir, it could be dangerous to contact the psy-link while the subject is in operation." While Peter was fighting for his life, Tony realized "It could open him up to outside attacks and it could remove his concentration at a dangerous point in time causing serious injuries, both to himself and the team," The agent stopped for a second, almost as if he felt guilty for focusing on … lesser matters, "or more importantly innocent bystanders."

The handler's voice sounded so damn helpful. Tony wondered if he'd still be so helpful if Tony stuffed him full of nanobites and sent him off to fight a war he'd never chosen to fight.

"Of course, I apologize; I didn't realize he'd notice."

Of course Peter noticed. I was rooting through his mind, how could he not have noticed.

Tony turned off the communicator and sat down, as bad as those memories had felt like to him, how must they have felt like to Peter, to relive them like that. God, he just hadn't realized… He grabbed the recording unit and stared at it, an image was digitized on his screen, Wilson Fisk desperately gasping for air, and not getting any as his lungs filled with webbing. Tiny globs of webbing forming around his mouth as his lungs were full and the webbing started pushing through the arteries.

Tony had known that Peter had killed him, the government had loved it. It solved two problems for them at once. Getting them rid of Fisk who'd grown to be more and more of a mixture of embarrassment and potential source of trouble, and at the same time setting Peter up as a criminal. A lot less people would clamor for the release of a murderer than that of a rogue hero.

Through Peter's eyes the man had looked almost pitiable, no longer a criminal monster in control of most crime in the city, but a man, a human being who was terrified as his life was snuffed out in three seconds.

Not that Fisk had been defenseless, he'd been about to leave the country and had over a dozen bodyguards surrounding him. He'd been expecting Peter, since Peter had warned him beforehand of what he'd do to him the moment May Parker died. It had delayed his death… for a few minutes.

None of the bodyguards had gotten more than a few bruises and scrapes, but Fisk hadn't gotten off that easy. Peter had held him up and forced his webbing down the man's throats, until every open space in his lungs had been filled with webbing. Fisk hadn't even had time to scream.

The court had claimed to be merciful; stating the stress Peter had been under, the emotional strain of the unmasking. Captain America's death, the grief of losing his aunt. They'd sentenced him to ten years. The Thunderbolts had taken Peter off their hands right after. It was after all not a good idea to send a well known vigilante like Spider-Man to a regular prison; he'd get killed of within a week if they put him into the population. And Peter had after all saved millions of lives over the years. Even the current administration couldn't deny that.

Nobody even considered that Norman Osborn held a personal grudge against Peter. Tony wondered if Markham even realized the connection or the power he'd given Osborn over his worst enemy. Yet Osborn's name was all over Peter's file, especially in the first year. Tony wished he'd known before, but what could he possibly have done, even if he had?

Tony got ready for yet another talk to the president, he wondered if Nick Fury had thought of those meetings with as much annoyance as Tony felt now. Politics, he thought the word with more than a bit of resentment. A necessary evil, unfortunately, but one he couldn't avoid, no matter how much he'd prefer to be fighting the Mandarin, or even Ultron, over spending even one minute with his own president.

He took another glance at the camera in Peter's room, Peter was staring at something. Tony focused the camera on the object he seemed to be looking at. A photo-album, Tony assumed that Jarvis had given it to him. Peter was crying.

Tony quickly turned away and started to get ready for his meeting with the president.


	7. Chapter 7: Interlude

**Interlude**

"Don't be such a bore Jonah, it's just one night out." Marla said as she checked his collar. Jonah let her, happy to have her so near him once again. He took her coat as they entered the opera house and folded it over his arm, before handing it to one of the valets at the reception.

Marla was dressed in a beautiful long red gown, and Jonah couldn't help but feel like a slouch standing next to her. Even most of the younger women around them couldn't look half as beautiful as his Marla. Marla had a laugh in her eyes, as she noticed his pout, she knew as well as he did, that he'd only waste his good money on this, because she'd absolutely wanted to go.

Jonah considered himself a good man, a strong man, a fair man, even a gregarious man, so what if he didn't like throwing money away for needless wastes like this? Marla had managed to blackmail him into joining her for an opera performance. Sure it didn't take her much to get him to go anywhere these days, but that's beside the point. He was somehow sure she liked it as little as he did, but it was her form of punishment for dragging her to a couple of council meetings over the past month. It was hard work regaining his status as the symbol of strong and confident journalism; it wasn't his fault that Peter Parker had been at traitor of the worst possible kind. How could even he, the great J. Jonah Jameson have known that Spider-Man would do something as cowardly as slipping into his personal circle, infiltrating his happy home, making him carry a viper to his chest?

As happy as he was to be proven right and to have everything he ever fought for finally come true over the past few years, his reputation was still dented by Parker's lies. He was far too nice, that's the problem. People like Parker took advantage of him because of his overly generous nature.

And to think that instead of being thrown in jail, the bastard was actually allowed to roam around and once again menace innocent citizens like him. Stalking a respectable publisher, even to a place like this where freaks didn't belong in the slightest. Jonah wondered if he should have a restraining warrant issued against Parker. Get the wallcrawler to stay at least five miles away from him at all times?

It would at least give him the right to demand Stark to drag his buddy away from here, while Jonah was forced to 'enjoy' himself listening to some clowns' buffoonery on stage. Or if Stark refused, he could call the cops, instead of being mocked for wanting nothing to do with him.

Parker wasn't even trying to be inconspicuous, dressed all in white as he were. White slacks, white sweater, even with his hair cut short as it was; he still looked like a hippy. Good for nothing slacker. Combined with Stark's black tux they looked like a gay bride and groom, Jonah wondered if the gossip column had any proof on anything untoward going on between them. It would at least make for a nice revenge to spread the news.

Jonah sat down in the box he'd rented, and started growling when he realized that they were joined by Stark and Parker. He expected a smart remark from Parker, but the bastard pretended to not even see him. Marla grabbed his arm and Jonah quickly sat back down, realizing only now that he'd gotten up to leave as soon as Stark and Parker had entered the box. They were joined by a few other people soon afterwards and Jonah managed the incredible feat of holding his tongue or stopping himself from throwing his glass all over Parker's blindly white outfit.

The music started and Jonah desperately tried to keep following what was going on in the stage. As far as he could see, the woman was singing something at the man and the man sang back, if you could call that caterwauling singing at least. He started to wish for earplugs and ended up looking back at Stark and Parker. Stark was watching the stage, while Parker sat still in his chair. Jonah took another look a few minutes later and Jonah realized that Peter hadn't moved an inch since he first sat down. The man still sat in the exact same position that he'd been in from the first second.

Jonah quickly looked away as his eyes met Starks', realizing that the so-called director of SHIELD was keeping as tight an eye on Parker as he was. It felt almost as if he were waiting, no hoping for something that just wasn't happening.

Peter still wasn't even fidgeting, or cringing at the high notes coming up from below them.

Jonah stopped pretending he wasn't staring at Peter, taking a strong look at the man's eyes, wondering when the joke would be revealed. But Peter's eyes stood dead, emotionless, looking more and more like the lenses of his mask.

Jonah almost missed it when the noise on the stage finally stopped, getting up just a few seconds too late to join in the overwhelming applause. He almost smiled when he noticed a tear in Marla's eyes.

Peter still sat there, still in the same position, he didn't get up until Stark looked at him. And even then he didn't join in with the clapping, not even for appearances sake.

Stark left and Peter followed him almost like… a machine. Whenever Stark was stopped, either for questions, small talk or autographs, Parker would stop as well, a mere two feet behind Stark at all times. No matter how long the conversation, he kept still, didn't even try to go for a breath of air or to get drinks.

At first Jonah considered that Parker was being an obstinate brat, simply refusing to have a good time in any way or form. John could be like that, when he was a kid. But Peter wasn't sulking, and Jonah knew as well as any father that sulking was an essential part of the attitude. Instead he was pretty sure that he was the only one who'd noticed anything strange in Spider-Man's behavior. He was probably the only one here who knew Parker well enough to realize just how wrong Peter was acting. Everybody else seemed to just consider him quiet, possibly shy or even anti-social.

But Jonah knew what Peter was like when he was shy; he'd fidget and try to disappear. He wouldn't just stand there, eyes constantly aimed at Stark as if awaiting orders like a dog on a leash.

Jonah gently led Marla along after Stark and Parker, making sure to keep the two of them in his sight at all time. Marla realized what he was doing and was probably calling him a fool a thousand times over. But he couldn't help it. His life had centered on Spider-Man for so long, that this mystery, any mystery involving Parker, was something he couldn't bring himself to ignore.

Stark finally stopped and stared right at him.

"Is something bothering you, Mister Jameson? Because if not, I would have to ask you to stop stalking me and my friend."

Jonah glared at him. "Is that what he is, Mister Stark?" Jonah glared at the Avenger, taking a step closer. "I was starting to think he was your dog."

"What do you think…"

"Can't even move without permission from you, can he? God and to think I thought you had him running free." Jonah looked at Peter who was still standing in the same place right behind Stark, as if the conversation didn't concern him in the slightest. The same he had done with all of Starks other conversations. Calm, cold and almost mechanical.

"I don't know what you've done to that man, mister Stark, but slavery is still illegal in this country." Jonah threw his drink on Stark, practically crushing the glass still in his hand. "And you can be sure as hell that the Bugle will be all over it!"

Jonah slammed down his glass, hearing it shatter and stomped off. He had a new front page to edit.


	8. Chapter 8

8.

The walls towered around him. There weren't any windows, just hard cement on the floor with walls that sounded like there came no end to them and a heavy metal door between him and the hallway, ready to slide left or right to let someone in or out. There wasn't a sink or a toilet in the cell; he'd be dependent on the jailer's kindness for whatever needs he might have. Just a bare empty cell and a metallic slot reaching out of the wall, but just as easily pulled back and removed if they decided to do so. Peter sat on the bed and stared down, barely noticing the prison uniform he was still wearing. His trial was days away and yet here he sat, in Thunderbolts Mountain. They didn't dare keep him at the Raft or at Riker's; too many people there wanted him dead. He already knew that whatever was said at the trial, his fate was already determined the second he'd been caught.

His head had been killing him for the past few days. His spidersense was causing a sort of internal goosebumps all over his body; desperately warning him that there was something wrong with his blood, like a foreign invasion that twisted his veins around into working against him instead of for him. It started as a soft jittering that refused to hatch into a full blown itch and had crawled over his heart and nerves until it had his spidersense warning him against his own body. Needless to say that he was clinging on to the proverbial edge of sanity.

Peter wished they'd just send him to prison; it's what he deserved for betraying May's memory as he had. He'd been so angry, so sure that Fisk had to die, that he hadn't even thought about what May would think of him, until Fisk sank down, his massive form falling dead on the gravel. It had lasted seconds, but every bit of them filled with May's eyes looking away from him and telling him she was ashamed of him.

He had never hated his spidersense as much as he did now, it seemed to be on a constant spike, but he didn't want to risk letting anyone know. They'd just use it against him. Aside of the threat in his body, it kept reacting to the villains in the cells next to his own. So when it took it up another notch, he barely even noticed. He just barely looked in time to hear the door opening. Norman didn't even bother leaving the hallway, he simply looked at him. He didn't smile, but his eyes spelled victory. Peter hoped Norman would just get it over with, but he knew he wouldn't get off that easy. Osborn wouldn't let him.

Osborn just stood still. He didn't say a word, he didn't have to. Peter got up, ready to defend himself. Osborn simply started a low chuckle and allowed the door to drop closed behind him. Lights went out twenty seconds later and Peter didn't see him again until after the trial was over.

Peter was now wearing the official Thunderbolt leisure time outfit and whoever had decided to make it white as snow had an utterly weird sense of humor. His food had arrived half an hour ago and he was currently staring at the plastic bowl and fork. He wasn't wearing any outer restraints, they didn't need them, not now that the nanobots could keep him from even moving an inch if they decided to turn them on.

He finally placed the bowl on the provided platter and sat down on the bunk, it was the only piece of furniture in the room, if you could call it that. His spidersense spiked and he stared at the door. It slid open and Osborn stood in the door, his huge form blocking the light from the halls.

Peter got ready to defend himself, he had no idea to prepare himself when the nanobots lit into him, firing wildly and making him fall to the ground in horrifying pain beyond anything even he had ever felt in his life. He knew it wasn't real, that it was just an illusion and yet he couldn't even bring himself to get up from the floor.

There wasn't even a chance to fight, the pain stopped for a second and he was still panting when Osborn came up to him and knelt beside him before firing the pain off again.

"Foolish little Peter", please make it stop, "if only you had given in to me years ago when I gave you the chance, we'd both be free. And instead look at us." He grabbed Peter's lip and pulled him up. "Slaves to the very nobodies you tried to protect for oh so long." He let go and Peter dropped down again. "Were they worth it Peter? Were they worth May's life?"

"You … don't.." Peter tried to say, but Osborn just laughed as if he could barely restrain himself.

"It should have been me of course, the one to kill her." Peter tried to crawl up, but it was more than the pain holding him down. "To snuff the old lady's lights out. I've had plenty of chances. Guess we know now who matters more, May or Gwen." Peter winced as Osborn kicked him again. "You couldn't even bring yourself to try and kill me after sweet little Gwendolyn fell of the bridge. Far as I'm concerned, poor Fisk did us both a favor."

Peter attacked him even through the pain, Osborn kicked him down easy.  
"Wrong choice again Peter. But then you'll come to realize that all too soon."

Osborn left him lying on the floor and opened the door.

"Have fun gentlemen."

But compared to the burning, even the soldiers worst attempts at beating him felt like butterfly taps. Peter was left holding his legs, curled up, but barely even noticing the bruises, split lip and the blood coming out of his ears as everything went black. Black and away into the past where it belonged.

Peter woke up in his cell at Stark Tower, the old remembered pain just an afterthought, the feel of blood on his tongue. Stark was there again. As if he even wanted him there, he didn't know why he grabbed on to him to keep him from leaving when he tried to get up.

Peter barely struggled when Tony picked him up. Fighting was bad, the wrong move. Better to just let himself be handled, it hurt less. Just go along with the flow. I'm not here, here doesn't exist, it was easier that way. Stark's hand brushed through his hair as Peter felt himself placed on the bed and tucked under. Kindness was a lie, they were always kind these days, he was too expensive not to.

Peter stretched out, not allowed to make things harder. Stark patted him on the back and left him in the bed. The light went out twenty seconds later. He could still taste the blood on his tongue, it tasted like copper.

He fell back in dreams of Mary Jane; it was all he had left.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

"Routine 10 alpha."

Peter instantly responded and went to the left, heading first for the stronger of the two androids and leaving the weaker three for afterwards. Part of him insisted that it would have been better to just use the smaller ones against the stronger one. But his opinion wasn't asked today. He stopped thinking and let the handlers control his body while they went through one training exercise after the other.

At the end of it, one of them took a towel and started wiping off Peter's sweat before ordering him in the shower. One minute, no longer. They'd get impatient and would come check on him if he took any more time.

"Jesus, Jameson just doesn't know when to let up does he?"

Peter could hear them talking, but unless they were talking to him, he had long ago stopped actually listening for anything other than commands.

"This is like the third article this week alone demanding clarity in the Thunderbolts' program." The soldier was looking at his newspaper. "What's his problem anyway?"

"Who knows, the guy's a nutcase."

Peter stopped still in the middle of the room, once again wearing white.  
"Just head for your room, Spider. We'll clean up here." They barely paid him any attention as he left the room. He counted the steps up to the room, 43. It was the same every day.

The door locked behind him as soon as he entered. Automatic failsafe. His spidersense mapped out the room and he went for the one spot in it that felt least threatening. He stopped thinking as soon as he was on the wall, waiting.

He had no idea how much time had past when Stark entered the room, carrying a tray of food, ordering him to eat. Peter did what he always did these days, he obeyed. Why couldn't Tony just leave him alone? Why did the man keep torturing him like this? It'd be so much easier if he could just pretend he was dead, if no one cared and he could just slip into orders and obedience. Peter Parker was dead or should be.

If only Tony let go of him…

"Do you want to watch TV?" Peter didn't answer, Stark wasn't waiting for an answer anyway. He went up right away and turned on the television. "Come on Peter."  
Peter got up and crouched on the top of the couch, watching the TV-screen. Tony kept switching channels, until he finally found something he liked. It didn't matter to Peter. His spidersense was buzzing, distracting him from heading back inside his head.

One commercial after the other, one mindless show after another and before he knew it Peter was back in Colorado, nursing his wounds in his cell at Thunderbolt Mountain while trying to get some sleep. His spidersense responded and he sat up on the bench, noticing Osborn standing in the door.

"I'm supposed to take you along for training Peter. Give you a chance to adjust. But I somehow doubt you'd be all too cooperative."

"Who me? I can be cooperative."

"No I don't think so."

"So what? You're going to have your goons beat me up again?" They both knew the beating was nothing; Osborn had a far more effective tool of torture than that.

"I think Peter; that you don't quite appreciate the situation you're in."

Peter glared at him.

"Stay." And Peter was frozen.

"I could do whatever I want with you. I could play with you, have every bone in your body broken, I could have you beaten up within an inch of your life and as long as I didn't kill you, nobody would bat an eye. And even if you did manage to escape, I could just order you to come back and you would. Hell Peter, even if you did somehow manage to get away from me, away from the nanobots, you'd still be a fugitive. You wouldn't be able to go to the cops or anyone, because you'd just be implicating them in your crimes.

"I could do anything I want to you, and if someone asks about it, I'll just tell them you refused to follow orders and it'd be alright. I own you Parker, and I can hardly wait to play with you."

Peter would have cringed if he could have.

Osborn motioned a remote at the bunk bed, it slid back into the wall.

"Take off those clothes."

Peter wondered what was up with Osborn, but his body was already undressing. Soon he stood in front of Osborn wearing nothing but his underwear. Osborn picked up the clothes and left the room.

"Release."

Peter almost fell over in the sudden burst of freedom.

"Some isolation should do you good Parker. Enjoy it."

And then he was gone, taking the light with him. Peter didn't see or hear another soul for days. There was a tiny drip of water on the side of the wall, it was barely enough to live on, still leaving his throat parched and dry.

He had no idea how much time had passed. It had even been easy at first. Just sitting there, letting his webbing form around him and sense the vibrations from outside through it. But as time passed and the hunger grew, there was no more webbing to tell him anything. His eyes adjusted to the dark of course, just showing him there was nothing but the walls and the drip. It didn't help.

His stingers came out and his head was constantly hurting, desperately striving not to become the animal that Osborn wanted him to be. When they finally came for him, he could barely move, remnants of webbing were clinging to his skin and his eyes stood wide open and froze at the sudden intrusion of light.

It wasn't Osborn standing in the door. Just a soldier. The man came in and let him sip some water. After that he was left alone again, the darkness seemed worse than it had been before.

Then the door opened again.

Once again, not Osborn. Another soldier. Peter hid in the corner. The man came up to him and picked him up easy. Peter wasn't fighting. He just lost consciousness.


	10. Chapter 10

10.

The sound stopped, Tony had turned off the television. Peter was still in the same position, yet inside he was shaking. He wondered if Tony could see it? Maybe his heartbeat increased, or his brainwaves sped up, something… the army had always known, no matter how much he tried to stay calm. Wait, just wait it off, breathe and it'll be fine.

"Peter?"

Peter didn't move, he hadn't been told to move. Tony got up and looked at him. He laid a hand on Peter's shoulder, Peter wanted to shake it off, but he didn't. Check ups happened, let it go…Tony looked into his eyes, but all Peter saw was the dark. He didn't like the dark.

"Do you want to go to bed Peter?" They'd turn off the light, put him in the dark.

"I could go and turn off the light, do you want me to?"

No!

But he didn't speak. His opinions didn't matter.

He didn't like the dark, bad things happened in the dark.

Stark grabbed his arms, holding him.

"I'm trying to help you Peter! Tell me what I can do to help you!"

"Send me back. Just send me back."

Because things were less confusing there, the army ordered, he obeyed, no worries no fear, long as he obeyed. It hurt and it scared him but he knew that as long as he followed orders, he'd know what to do.

He had no such answers here. He didn't belong here.

"I can't do that." Tony said. "You don't belong there Peter, you're more than a weapon."

More?

More like standing in the middle of a training room and being told to fight Venom. With Gargan doing his best to kill him while Peter had to hold him off, knowing that all ten other super villains in the room were barely held back by their own electrical leashes from joining in on the beat down. Cause that's what it was.

They didn't let him lead the fight, instead this was his 'handlers' day of learning how to get used to him. They sat in a separate room, watching them like this was some kind of video game where he was a character made from pixels that had to fight the first boss. Who cared if he lost a 'life', if he got hit? It was just a mark down for his handlers.

Gargan built a tail out of the symbiote and was about to kill him when his handler finally stepped in and stopped him. Peter crawled up under a dozen grins, regaining control of himself for a second, before the next handler stepped into the boot and he lost his body once again.

It was humiliating. Jumping up, crouching down, raising his arms up and down, like the guy was checking the controls and Peter sat there like a back seat driver in his own head, hoping someone could just fire a bullet in his brain and get it over with.

It took two hours before Peter was allowed to leave to his room. Once there he lay down on the slab. It was better than nothing and his bruised and battered body needed the rest. The lights stayed on, it wasn't near time to sleep yet, so he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the lamp shining in his eyes.

He could hear music playing in the cell next door and desperately tried to ignore it. Not an easy thing to do. Heavy beats of something he didn't recognize echoed through the walls. It didn't come through too clearly which was a testament to both the thickness of the walls and the loudness of the music.

Just enough to keep him from nodding off, it was even worse when he put his hands on the walls; he couldn't stop feeling the vibrations through the rock; the image of someone, something pounding on the floors as hard as a sledgehammer.

He quickly pulled away from it and sat up.

The cement floor felt cold and wet against the soles of his feet, and he knew that if he sat down he'd be freezing even more than he had under the blanket he'd been provided with. He tried to think of his aunt May, but whenever he did, her look of disapproval showed on her face.

He sat down, forming webs underneath him; it barely kept away the cold. He wasn't even sure what he was doing, but soon the entire room was filled with webbing. It was weird, but oddly familiar, like making the place his own. He looked up when the doors jumped open and he was slightly woozy as the soldiers came into the room.

"Is something the matter?" The soldiers stared at the webs and then at him, one of them grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up.

Peter thought about fighting them, but didn't bother. If he did they'd just take over his body again, make him even more helpless than he already was. So he let them push him in front of them and towards the showers, while a third guy stayed behind at his cell.

He was forced under the shower, clothes and all, the water soon spraying him, fat drops clinging to his hair. Two more men joined them, holding batons while Peter could sense the danger in the walls surrounding him.

"Get those clothes off you moron!" one of them yelled at him, Peter stared at him in shock and got hit in the back for his trouble. After that he quickly took of the wet shirt. The soldier grabbed it from his hand and glared pointedly at his pants. Peter quickly took them off. The soldier took it from him and threw it against the wall with the shirt.

It was cold and freezing and Peter shivered under the harsh spray of water coming down on him. Before he could do anything, the second soldier grabbed a bus of disinfectant and poured it over him, ordering him to rub it in. Peter still had no idea what was going on.

It lasted no more than ten minutes, it felt like hours had passed. When they finally turned down the water, the soldier threw him a towel and he barely had time to rub away the worst of it, before it was taken away again. The first soldier was holding a bus of talcum powder and started pouring it over Peter. Peter desperately closed his eyes to keep them safe.

They turned him around, again and again, more powder. It itched. He had to sneeze, more webbing came out and one of the guards grabbed a spray and forced his wrists under it. It burned and Peter winced.

Then he was pushed back to his cell. Still naked. The powder was clinging to his half wet skin, his wrists were burning.

When he got into his cell all the webbing he'd left there was gone. He got no explanation, instead he was pushed inside and a fresh set of clothes was thrown his way before the door was closed and the light was turned off. He didn't even have time to ask if he could go to the toilet.

He didn't bother to get dressed; he grabbed the clothes and held on to them as if they were a life line. He wished he didn't deserve this.

But he did


	11. Chapter 11

11.

He woke up, still on the couch. Tony was holding him, but let go the second Peter's eyes opened. His body was shaking, he had to stop, but there was no way to make his body obey. It was cold, so cold. Not the dark, please not the dark. Tony took a blanket and threw it over him and he huddled in it like a child, cowering away from the outside world. Peter didn't want to trust Stark; he hated even the idea of trusting him. Why couldn't his heart remember that this was the man who'd betrayed them all? Tony Stark was to blame for all of it, for turning superheroes over to the government, for making him unmask, for May…

He fell still.

But he couldn't blame Tony for May; could he? May's death was his own fault. Tony hadn't forced him to unmask, he could have said no, he could have left for Canada. He hadn't. May was dead because of him, because he was stupid enough to ignore years of experience and had dared to believe that things would be better if he did. And there was nothing he could do to undo it. No way to turn back the clock.

Please Tony, let them end it, let me die…

He was wearing an apron, the Amazing Cook, it read. The barbecue was ready, all he had to do was light the fire. Mary Jane sat on a blanket, playing with their baby, little May. She was so beautiful, looked just like her mother with bright red hair and wearing a lovely pink dress. Little Richie sat next to her on the ground; they were fighting over a toy. He let Gwen settle them while he went to tend to the barbecue with Harry.

Mary Jane, no Gwen was playing with the children and Harry just told him a joke, while May, no Richie was playing on the slide. Little Normie sat in the sand and May ran up to him. Richie was in the shadow with his mother. They were staring at something on the ground. Maybe Gwen was explaining something to him, he was so smart. Gwen used to say he was just like his father, he always thought Richie had gotten it from her.

"Is something wrong Gwen?"

She looked so sad.

Ben looked at May as he gave her an apple. She was looking at Nathan who was talking to Captain Stacy. Peter was watching the fire. Harry had left him alone for no more than a second. He looked tired, so Peter let him. Harry was probably wondering what was keeping Liz. The meat was burning/choking, so Peter went back to that.

Steve and Bill were talking to Danny. Nothing serious, just fun and games. The Thing was messing with an umbrella, someone had written something on it. He couldn't quite read what, but Peter was sure it came from the Yancy Street gang.

Bruce Banner was in the tree, getting a kitten down to the ground while May and Richie were waiting for him in the shade. She looked so pretty, why couldn't he stop thinking that, he must have thought it a thousand times, but it kept surprising him.

Bruce's eyes flashed green, but it didn't matter. They were with friends here.

And something was wrong, but the meat was burning and he needed to do something to stop it from going blue… black.

Hector came up behind him and gave him a fork.

"You've got to stick him to make sure he's done Pete." Peter nodded and accepted the fork. "You know you could have told me, I would have understood. I lost my family too."

Then he was gone, over to Steve and Danny, offering them a plate of rice pudding. Wasn't the dessert supposed to come after the meat?

What was wrong? Something was wrong, and his spidersense kept going and going but he just couldn't find it.

Mary Jane was smiling and dancing and asking him to come and join her as the sky turned black and empty and the park turned into a graveyard. Peter looked at the meat and startled, took a step back.

What? Mary Jane and Gwen and Captain Stacy and Harry and …. And all of them faded, faded into ghosts, sinking into their graves and into nowhere and he fell down on his knees, begging for them not to leave him. But his tears were empty and meaningless.

And the meat burned, the meat burned into dark clouds.

He touched the barbecue and turned it off and Wilson Fisk looked at him, his eyes still begging for mercy from dead eyes, choking on webbing.

Peter wanted to move away from Tony, wanted to be alone. Tony had said he could move on his own, that he was free, at least here. So he tried to run and he did, for a few feet, then his body stopped obeying and he found himself a passenger again.

There hadn't been any alarm; he hadn't disobeyed an order had he? Had he missed something? He wasn't sure, maybe there had been an order and that's why the handler's took over because he disobeyed. But there wasn't anything. Not that he could see.

"Peter?"

His body was moving, but he wasn't, he didn't want to.

"Tony?" Peter was surprised to hear his own voice, since he was pretty sure he hadn't said anything.

"Please hold me."

Oh god no! Don't do this. Not now, not like this.

Tony sat down next to him.

Peter wanted to move away, instead he got closer. Inside his head he was shouting, but Tony couldn't hear that. And Peter had no choice but to feel himself lean up against Tony and to have Tony's arms around him. It sickened him.

"I'm sorry Peter, I'm so sorry. I never meant for everything to go so wrong."

Then don't do this.

Peter felt his head tilt towards Tony, looking at him. He was crying even. Why did they do this?

"It's alright Peter, I'll protect you."

Then don't touch me!

But he felt his head resting against Tony's chest, holding on.

Tony stayed still, careful as if worried that the slightest movement could scare Peter off. Peter was almost grateful for it, but he just wanted to run and the handler wouldn't let him. He stopped breathing when the handler forced his way towards Tony, kissing him. And Tony gave in. No!

He was turning around, sitting on his knees while facing Tony. Tony looked at him in wonder. Peter hated to see that look, he didn't want it, wanting this would betray Mary Jane and everything he'd ever felt for her.

"Please Tony, I need you."

The words left his lips, while all he wanted to do was beg Tony to say no.

He was helpless, helpless to feel his body pull his shirt over his head and face Tony, pushing him down and leaning down for a kiss.


End file.
